


loving you (is like a punch to the face)

by orphan_account



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Jealous Eames (Inception), M/M, Rough Sex, Unhappy Ending, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-31 18:53:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21150539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Arthur seduces a mark for a job. Eames doesn't handle it well.Edit: This has an unhappy ending, they don't get together and it's not all rainbows. Won't be writing a follow-up fix-it chapter regardless of what you comment. Don't like, don't read.





	1. Ch. 1

**Author's Note:**

> *handwaves Cobb quitting dreamshare* He's back boiis. 
> 
> Besides that, bare minimum proofreading, dubious consent is dubious and Arthur also goes quite far with the OC, so if that's not your cup of tea, best stop while you're ahead.

Cobb laid out photographs of five men on the table. Arthur eyes roved over each; all dark-haired men, pale skin and dark eyes with mostly unremarkable features. Over his shoulder, Eames did the same, probably scrutinizing each, trying to delve into the personalities while Arthur just brushed the surface.

“Who are they,” Arthur asked, glancing at Cobb, who had his hands on the table, posture hunched and mouth set in a deep, serious frown.

“Doesn’t matter who they are, it’s what they are. They’re the only breaks in our mark’s routine,” he said, tapping each photograph one by one as he says it. On the other side of the table, Ariadne gives him a confused stare, sensing this, Cobb explains.

“I’ve been tailing him for the past 2 months and he’s kept religiously to his schedule. No dentist appointments, no spa visits, no overnight flights, only business trips planned to the minute,” Cobb sighed. Eames scoffed behind him.

“That’s impossible, no one keeps that strictly to their schedule, there’s always an opening,” Eames said and Cobb shook his head, hair falling in his eyes.

“No. I couldn’t find a single window where we’d be able to dose him and take him under. We can’t do it during his sleeping hours because his home security is impossible to get through, we can’t do it on a business trip because he chooses high-end hotels, one’s where there are far too many cameras or us to break in and catch him unaware, except…” Cobb went on, and gestured expansively at the five men, “them, his… _flings_, the men he picks up in hotel bars on his trips.”

“Easy, I forge one of these handsome young men, distract him, you extract the information from his safe. Done in a jiff,” Eames drawled and Arthur rolled his eyes. Cobb made a frustrated sound and slammed his fist on the table, making Ariadne jump.

“Are you not listening to me? We don’t even have any openings to get him under! You can’t forge any of them in _real life!_” he bit out and Eames went silent. Arthur could feel him vibrating with frustration and disbelief. Arthur couldn’t help but feel the same, he clenched his jaw. This was a high paying job for a high-profile client. They couldn’t afford to lose this job.

“Cobb,” Ariadne said, her intonation strange enough to have everyone’s eyes snap to her. She looked startled at the attention, but continued, “Look at these men, what do you see?” Cobb narrowed his eyes in consternation.

“Dark hair, brown eyes, pale, late 20s to mid 30s, tall and thin… What, so he has a type? What does that have to do with anything,” Cobb snapped in irritation and Ariadne gave him an annoyed look.

“The answer is staring you in the face Cobb, quite literally,” she said, and her eyes rose meaningfully to meet Arthur’s. Suddenly, everyone in the room was looking at him and he felt instantly on edge. Cobb’s eyes widened and he let out a breathy laugh.

“Fuck, of course. Arthur, you fit the profile! Dark hair, brown eyes, pale…” Cobb exclaimed, a manic glint in his eye. Arthur furrowed his brows, “What does that have to do with it?” he said slowly. Cobb looked at him as if he was dense.

“You’re his type. You’re our way in,” Cobb said and then Arthur understood. From the corner of his eye, Eames stiffened, back going ramrod straight, clearly coming to the same conclusion.

“Cobb… Seducing marks isn’t exactly in my job description,” Arthur replied hesitantly. A quick glance around confirmed they understood what he was getting at. Ariadne, with a contemplative, assessing expression and Eames with the sardonic, mocking twist to his mouth. Arthur fought hard not to bristle, it was true, he wasn’t skilled with people, nor was he supposed to be. Only, Cobb disagreed.

“You don’t have to seduce him. He always approaches them himself. All you have to do is sit there and look pretty,” Cobb insisted and Arthur grimaced at hearing those words come out of the mouth of a man he had worked with for years. One job and he went from being Cobb’s right-hand man to a sexual object for the mark… It was degrading. At Arthur’s continued reticence, Cobb turned to him fully and loomed over him.

“Arthur, for fucks sake. All you have to do is accept a drink, take him up to your hotel room and we’ll do the rest. No one said you had to have sex with him. This is the _only way _we’ll ever dose him,” Cobb said, voice low and practically a growl. Arthur floundered, eyes flitting to Cobb and away. Then, Eames gave a derisive chuckle and Arthur looked up to see the scornful look on his face, as if Arthur seducing anyone was a joke to him. It made him furious. Arthur straightened to his full height and looked Cobb in the eye.

“Fine, I’ll do it,” he said with finality and blatantly ignored Eames’ incredulous glare as he turned around and walked out the room. He had a hotel room to book and arrangements to make.


	2. Ch. 2

Arthur sat at the bar of The Peninsula, watching the people milling around and others lounging in booths. Cobb and Eames were tracking the mark, who should be leaving his meeting in Wan Chai in about fifteen minutes. Ariadne was already on a flight back to Paris, rarely choosing to go into the field after the Fischer job. Arthur wondered if he had made the wrong choice. He was brimming with nerves and had been nursing the same martini for the past hour, trying and failing to loosen up before the mark arrived.

He could feel eyes on him and couldn’t help but chuckle grimly. Never let it be said that he did anything halfway. He was wearing his bespoke charcoal Zegna, a suit he had worn only once before. The three piece accentuated the lean lines of his body and the trousers hugged his thighs and ass tightly enough to be almost obscene. He had chosen to forgo the product in his hair, knowing the soft curls falling over his forehead made him look less buttoned-up, less severe and a full 10 years younger than he was. To clinch the deal, a burgundy silk tie looped around his unbuttoned collar, a sensual splash of colour that made his intentions for the night crystal clear.

His train of thought was broken when his phone lit up with a notification.

“_t-5” _ was all it said. Arthur cleared his throat and straightened up immediately. They were in the building. He affected a nonchalant expression, casually looking over the room, searching for the mark. It was when he was making his second sweep a few minutes later that he saw the man walking through the entrance, unaccompanied.

He was tall, at least 6’0’’, with chestnut brown hair and a strong physique. He was more dressed down than Arthur had expected for a man coming from a business meeting, he must have stopped by his room to freshen up. He was wearing a dress shirt the same shade of burgundy as Arthur’s tie, he noted, much to his chagrin. It was possible he had gone a bit overboard with the sensuality, he mused. Arthur turned back to his drink, watching him come to a stop at the opposite end of the bar in his peripheral vision.

Daniel Evans, 38, CFO of MS Global, born in Kensington to affluent parents with even more affluent connections. Arthur made a mental tally of the information he had on the man as he slowly trailed a finger over the rim of his glass, angling his body towards the man, hoping to catch his eye. It… took a shorter time than he expected. The minute he looked up, about to signal the bartender for another drink, he made eye contact with Evans, who it seemed, had been staring at him unabashed all along.

Arthur’s eyes widened and he cleared his throat, eyes flicking away briefly as his nerves returned with a vengeance. He closed his eyes and sighed, biting his lip, then forced himself to make eye contact. Evans caught his gaze and held it with a smirk as he signaled the bartender. Arthur felt an inadvertent stirring of interest, lust pooling at his navel at the playful quirk of lips and the man’s heated, appraising gaze slipping over his body. Arthur watched surreptitiously as Evans broke away briefly to murmur something to the bartender, fiddling with his empty glass and staring at the rings it had made on the counter top.

“From the gentleman over there,” someone said in his ear and Arthur jolted in surprise. The bartender smiled at him and placed another martini in front of him. Arthur’s lips turned up at the corners, _observant_, he thought. He took a sip and turned towards Evans, giving him a nod in thanks. He had drank half a glass when Evans slid into the seat next to him. A tanned hand entered his vision and Arthur looked up.

“Daniel Evans, mind if I join you?” he said, accented and Arthur raised his hand to shake it, a firm press and a brush of a thumb across the back of his hand as he broke away. Arthur suppressed a shiver. There was something about him… Arthur couldn’t put his finger on it, but the strong grip, sharp accent and the barest hint of playful flirtation assuaged his nerves and made Arthur genuinely amenable to his advances. All the better, it would be easier to pretend.

“Tom, Tom Hansen and no, not at all,” Arthur replied, smiling and Evans grinned widely. Arthur sipped at his drink as Evans ordered himself a whiskey. Arthur let his eyes rove over the man carelessly. Shirt unbuttoned to the second collar, showing just a peek of collarbone, sleeves rolled up messily to his elbows, bulging slightly at his biceps, and a hint of cologne, something regal and so very British. When his eyes made their journey back up to Evans face, they met the man’s own eyes, an attractive hazel green, pupils dilated to showing his blatant interest. This was going to be easy.

“So, Mr. Evans, what brings you to Hong Kong?” Arthur drawled, bringing his glass to his lips. Evans gave him an embarrassed grin, leaning closer as he replied, “Please, call me Daniel. Mr. Evans makes me feel geriatric! Unfortunately, it’s rather boring, I’m here for a business trip.” Arthur smiled, a bit wryly as he thought of what he’d say next. He figured he should move this along, there was really no need to exchange pleasantries, they were on a schedule.

“Hmm, I hope you don’t mind mixing business with a little _pleasure_?” Arthur hummed, putting his drink down and placing his hand on Evans’ forearm, stroking the fine hairs. Evans parted his lips on an exhale, eyes darkening and fixing to Arthur’s mouth as his lips wrapped around the word _pleasure. _

“No, I most certainly don’t mind,” he said huskily and Arthur smirked. He got up from his perch on the barstool and began walking, confident that Evans would follow.


	3. Ch. 3

Evans was on him the minute the door shut, spinning him around and pressing him to the door, his body plastered to Arthur’s as he licked his way into his mouth. Arthur felt a spike of lust and panic. This was moving too fast. He grabbed Evans by the shoulders, trying to put some space between them but Evans just took this as a cue to hoist him up by the thighs and walk backwards towards the bed.

_Fuck_, Arthur thought as the man mouthed at his neck and then threw him unceremoniously onto the bed. Arthur scrabbled backwards, lips tingling and abused, saliva drying on his neck as Evans shrugged out of his shirt. He glanced at the clock on the wall and swore. There were still about five minutes until Cobb and Eames would get here with the PASIV and a lot could happen in five minutes. Arthur slowly unbuttoned his jacket, stalling, but Evans was on him the minute he had his shirt off, chucking the burgundy fabric to the floor.

“Fuck, baby, you need to get out of those clothes,” he muttered and batted Arthur’s hands aside impatiently. Arthur felt panic crawling up his throat and his eyes widened. “_W- Wait,”_ Arthur stuttered and tried to remove Evans hands from his body. Evans leaned back and raised an eyebrow at him.

“What, you feeling shy now? You were practically gagging for it at the bar,” he teased and Arthur flushed prettily. Evans looked delighted, raising his fingers to brush them across his cheek. His fingers drifted down the line of his jaw, thumb coming up to press on Arthur’s swollen lower lip and dip into his mouth. Arthur shuddered and his eyes flickered closed.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he groaned and then his mouth was on Arthur’s. Arthur sighed into his mouth, relieved. This he could do, it was just a little making out until Cobb got here. He let the man lick into his mouth, pressing him into the mattress with his hips, broad hands roving over Arthur’s body, from his chest to his thighs. Arthur couldn’t help but respond, legs coming up to wrap around Evans waist when the man gripped him by the back of his thighs. He nibbled on his lip and gripped his biceps, feeling a spike of lust at the muscle underneath his palms.

He lost track of time as they made out and Evans rutted into him, trousers unbuttoned enough for him to rub his erection against Arthur’s hip, only the layer of his boxers and Arthur’s own trousers separating their skin. Evans managed to get him out of his waistcoat and unbutton his shirt halfway when Arthur realized it had been longer than five minutes. His eyes snapped open and looked at the clock frantically. The bottom fell out of his stomach. _They’re late. _He felt a rising sense of alarm, struggling to focus as Evans licked, bit and sucked at his collarbone. 

_“Fuck_,” he swore and Evans stopped laving his collarbone to shoot him a lascivious grin, lips spit slick and pupils dilated. “That’s the idea,” he said, thrusting his hips a bit lower, erection pressing into the cleft of Arthur’s ass. Arthur shuddered, mouth falling open and eyes widening in panic, which Evans took as encouragement. He kept his eyes on the clock, the minutes ticking down, unable to protest as his shirt was pulled off his body and then his trousers followed. Evans kissed his way down to his navel, fingers tugging at his boxers and Arthur thrust his hips up instinctually.

He felt torn. He was attracted to Evans, was hard for him but Arthur knew it was wrong, Evans was the mark. His job was only to distract him until Cobb and Eames got here. There was no way to slow him down, not with the current proceedings and some small, touch-starved part of Arthur didn’t want him to slow down. It had been so long since anyone else had touched him this way, after spending so long on the run with Cobb, then months planning for the Fischer job. Would it be so terrible to let himself have this?

Arthur gave in, throwing back his head with a moan when Evans mouthed at his erection through his underwear. Evans was muttering something into his skin, _“so fucking hot, beautiful, fuck, can’t wait to get my cock inside you, ” _and Arthur threw an arm over his eyes, face flaming hot in arousal. The time was the last thing on his mind when Evans tugged his boxers off him, gripping him by the back of his thighs and hitching his legs around his waist again from where they had fallen back down. Evans kissed him, mumbled a question into his mouth, “_where’s the lube, love” _and Arthur moaned in response, flinging his arm towards the side table.

And then Evans was folding him in half, his knees almost to his ears and two lube slick fingers pressing into him as Evans muttered praise into his ear, his British accent blisteringly hot, sending shivers down his spine. Arthur tried not to let his mind drift, towards another man with the same clipped consonants and stocky build, tried not to imagine it was Eames with his fingers inside him. It couldn’t be Eames, not after… _Fuck, Eames and Cobb. _Arthur’s eyes snapped open just in time to see Eames burst through the door with Cobb hot on his heels and then Evans was being thrown off of him. 

Arthur scrambled back, tugging the sheets up over him to cover himself, but thankfully no one was looking at him. Eames looked livid, eyes blazing, one hand gripping Evans by the throat. Cobb was shouting something, but Eames didn’t hear him. He punched Evans, a powerful right hook that knocked him out cold before he could get a word out and the man crumpled to the ground. Arthur’s face burned in humiliation, he quickly tugged on his boxers and was pulling on his shirt when Eames turned to him with a thunderous expression.

“_What the fuck! _We told you to distract him, not to let him put his _cock_ in your ass!” he roared, and Arthur reared back. He felt fury bubble up beneath his skin, overtaking the keen humiliation.

“You were _late!_ What the fuck was I supposed to do when he jumped me the minute I walked through the door?” Arthur shouted, his hands were shaking as he pulled on his trousers, buttoning up his shirt hastily so Eames would stop fucking _staring _at him like that. Cobb looked at him guiltily.

“We had a tail, we had to lose him Arthur, I’m sorry,” Cobb said, voice low and embarrassed. Eames wasn’t as apologetic, he stalked over to Arthur and grabbed him by the collar, stretching it, and his eyes zeroed in on the bruises on his collarbone. 

“So instead of stalling him, you decide to start necking, hm?” Eames growled, eyes staring into his, blazing with furious betrayal. Arthur bared his teeth and stared back, _what gives you the right to be feel betrayed, Eames, _he thought.

“Eames!” Cobb barked, “You’ve already fucked yourself, there’s no way he won’t remember your face, but doesn’t matter for the job, because you’re a forger. Now, get your fucking ass over here and hook yourself up to the PASIV.” With one last baleful look, Eames let go of his collar and walked over to where Cobb had already administered the mark with the sedative. Eames inserted the line into his arm, Cobb pressed the button and then they were under, leaving Arthur to clean himself up and lick his wounds.


	4. Ch. 4

The job went off without a hitch. Arthur had freshened up and painstakingly put himself back together by the time Eames and Cobb woke. Cobb looked pleased, smiling in satisfaction as he rolled up the lines. Eames looked like he wanted to punch someone, lips pursed and jaw clenched. Arthur leaned against the doorframe as Cobb arranged the mark on the bed, wiping the extra keycard Arthur had given them for prints and leaving it next to the man for him to find the next morning. No doubt, he’d assume he’d had a violent encounter with Tom Hansen’s jealous ex-boyfriend and then been left in his conquest’s room.

No one spoke a word as they split ways, Cobb and Eames taking the stairs, getting off on separate floors to take the elevator while Arthur, Tom Hansen, took the elevator directly to the lobby and checked out early, looking chagrinned and like a man in a hurry. He made his eyes move fluidly past him when he saw Cobb hailing a cab outside The Peninsula and did not spot Eames at all. Arthur frowned, then thought better of it. He hardly wanted to see Eames anyway, after how thoroughly he’d been humiliated.

Eames had other plans. Arthur was walking towards East TST Station when someone grabbed him and shoved him into an alleyway. Arthur stopped his fist mid-swing when he saw that it was Eames, face shadowed but still recognizable from the glow of the nearby streetlight. It was nearing 2 am and there were hardly any people milling about on the street, no one noticing them standing in the dark alleyway. 

Eames shoved him into the wall, hands gripping his hips tightly enough to bruise. Arthur grit his teeth against the pinpricks of pain, shoving back at him.

“What the fuck do you want, we’re not supposed to be seen together,” Arthur hissed and Eames stayed silent, his only response was to crowd closer, until Arthur’s shoulder’s were flush with the brick wall behind him. 

“_Eames,” _Arthur snarled, staring up at the man’s shadowed face, unable to gauge his expression. The hands at his hips tightened and Arthur’s hands shot up to his arms, physically wincing and trying to wrench away.

“Did he fuck you?” Eames asked, voice gruff and Arthur’s eyes snapped towards him. He struggled for words, burning in a mix of shame and indignation. Eames pushed him further into the wall, until they were chest to chest and Arthur was pressing his head back against the wall awkwardly, neck hurting with the strain.

“_Did. He. Fuck. You.” _Eames repeated, slowly, dangerously, _fuck _ringing loud in Arthur’s ears, grating, infuriating. 

“What the _fuck _is your problem? Why the jealous boyfriend routine? You have the fucking _audacity_ to humiliate me for _doing my job_, doing something that’s half your fucking job description?” Arthur shouted, shoving at Eames’ chest. Eames grabbed his wrists, the tight ring of his fingers grinding the fine bones together as his hips shoved his into the wall, locking him in place as he struggled.

“Answer the question,” Eames said, no inflection, eyes shadowed, vibrating with violence. Arthur felt a sob try to escape his throat and shook with rage.

“No, no he fucking didn’t. Is that what you want to hear? He didn’t put his cock in my ass but you know what, Eames, you’re right. It wasn’t just a job. I _wanted _him. I _wanted _him to _fuck me into the mattress_,” Arthur bit out viciously and finally got a reaction out of Eames, a bone chilling growl. Eames crushed him into the wall, face so close to Arthur he could see the murderous glint in his eyes. Arthur couldn’t suppress a helpless sound, struggling to get out of the man’s grip, find some room to breath but Eames wouldn’t allow it.

“What, _what do you want from me_? You’re the one who rejected _me, _Eames! You fucking laughed in my face at LAX, you fucking asshole. Don’t you remember that?” Arthur cried out, turning his face away as his eyes burned with tears of humiliation. Eames’ grip loosened and Arthur ripped his wrists out of it, rubbing them and then putting his hands over his face, afraid to breath lest it come out a sob.

“Arthur…” Eames whispered and Arthur felt his breath on his exposed neck. He shivered and let his hands drop to his sides limply in defeat. Eames looked at him, conflicted, looking absolutely gutted. Then he cupped Arthur’s cheek with a palm and kissed him blindingly hard. Arthur shuddered as Eames bit at his mouth, one hand cupping his jaw and the other back on his hip, pulling him up to meet the thrust of his hips.

Eames bit his lower lip and then sloppily licked down his chin, ripping his collar open to bite his neck savagely, nearly breaking skin. Arthur gasped and his knees buckled, only managing to stay upright by gripping Eames’ shoulders, fingers digging into his shoulder blades. He struggled for breath as Eames sucked fresh bruises onto his neck, the rise of his Adam’s apple, then his collarbone. Hands tugged at his zipper, pushing his trousers down until they were a heap at his ankles. In a single swift movement, Eames hoisted him up the wall, grabbing him by his thighs, forcing Arthur to wrap his bare legs around his waist. 

“_God, fuck, Eames!” _he moaned when the man ripped his boxers clean off his body, unbuttoning his own pants with his other hand and pulling his cock out of the slit in his boxers while Arthur just held on for dear life, thighs quivering and pressing finger-shaped bruises into Eames biceps.

“Look at me,” Eames said, voice wrecked and Arthur opened his eyes. With their eyes locked, Eames wrapped one palm around Arthur’s right knee and yanked it up until it was hooked over his shoulder. Arthur’s mouth fell open and he panted, grimacing in pain, the strain of unused muscles making him shudder uncontrollably. Eames swore, _“fuck, look at you,” _and pushed his fingers into his open mouth and Arthur laved at it with his tongue, watching Eames through hooded eyes. 

Eames trailed his fingers over his chin, leaving a wet trail and then he was pressing inside him, where he was already slick and loose and Arthur threw his head back, feeling it connect with hard brick. Eames snarled, furious at the implications and then he was shoving himself inside, filling him up. Arthur let out a punched-out sound, legs spasming and heels slipping on Eames back. 

Eames set off on a brutal pace that slammed Arthur’s shoulders against brick with every thrust.He moaned helplessly, sounds were being fucked out of him with every thrust (“_uh, uh, uh”, _the slick, obscene sounds of balls slapping against his ass). Arthur bit down hard on his lip and cried out when Eames shoved impossibly closer, his hamstrings pulling taut and sending spikes of pain down his legs. 

“_No,_ _I want to hear you_,” Eames said, biting into his throat and Arthur let go of his abused lip, drifting in pleasure, barely aware of the sounds escaping his throat. His hand drifted down to his own cock, stroking messily, two, three times and then he was coming, head dropping onto Eames shoulder, panting as Eames pounded into his over-sensitized body. Eames’ rhythm was stuttering, his hands slipping with sweat on his thighs. Arthur felt his cock pulse inside him, filling him up and then they both stilled, spent, panting and catching their breath.

Eames let him down onto shaky legs, and Arthur picked up his trousers, dirty and ruined. He pulled them on, hands trembling and tried to tuck his cum-stained shirt into them, leaning back into the wall, barely able to stand upright. He swallowed and flushed, thinking about how he looked, how he’d have to fucking _limp _ into the Airport, buttons missing from his collar, neck bruised black and blue, lips swollen and abused. Arthur slowly turned his face up to Eames, feeling defeated, feeling _ruined_. 

“Got what you wanted?” he whispered, voice hoarse and Eames just looked at him, _looked at him_, an expression on his face that Arthur couldn’t even begin to parse.

“Arthur, I’m -” Eames began and Arthur raised a hand, stopping him in his tracks.

“Do me a favour, Eames. Don’t contact me,” Arthur said and walked out of the alleyway without looking back.

**Author's Note:**

> I mean... I never said there was a happy ending. /shrug


End file.
